Unknown to History: a story of the captivity of Mary of Scotland eBook

The Queen’s coldness towards Humfrey had meantime
diminished daily, though he could not guess whether
she really viewed his course as the right one, or
whether she forgave this as well as all other injuries
in the calm gentle state into which she had come, not
greatly moved by hope or fear, content alike to live
or die.

Richard, in much anxiety, was to remain another day
or two at Fotheringhay, on the plea of his wearied
horses and of the Sunday rest.

Meantime Mary diligently wrote the conditions, but
perhaps more to satisfy her daughter than with much
hope of their acceptance.

CHAPTER XLIII. THE WARRANT

“Yea, madam, they are gone! They stole
away at once, and are far on the way to Fotheringhay,
with these same conditions.” So spoke
Davison, under-secretary, Walsingham being still indisposed.

“And therefore will I see whether the Queen
of Scots will ratify them, ere I go farther in the
matter,” returned Elizabeth.

“She will ratify them without question,”
said the Secretary, ironically, “seeing that
to escape into the hands of one of your Majesty’s
enemies is just what she desires.”

“She leaves her daughter as a pledge.”

“Yea, a piece of tinsel to delude your Majesty.”

Elizabeth swore an oath that there was truth in every
word and gesture of the maiden.

“The poor wench may believe all she said herself,”
said Davison. “Nay, she is as much deluded
as the rest, and so is that honest, dull-pated sailor,
Talbot. If your Majesty will permit me to call
in a fellow I have here, I can make all plain.”

“Who is he? You know I cannot abide those
foul carrion rascals you make use of,” said
Elizabeth, with an air of disgust.

“This man is gentleman born. Villain he
may be, but there is naught to offend your Majesty
in him. He is one Langston, a kinsman of this
Talbot’s; and having once been a Papist, but
now having seen the error of his ways, he did good
service in the unwinding of the late horrible plot.”

“Well, if no other way will serve you but I
must hear the fellow, have him in.”

A neatly-dressed, small, elderly man, entirely arrayed
in black, was called in, and knelt most humbly before
the Queen. Being bidden to tell what he knew
respecting the lady who had appeared before the Queen
the day before, calling herself Bride Hepburn, he returned
for answer that he believed it to be verily her name,
but that she was the daughter of a man who had fled
to France, and become an archer of the Scottish guard.